


Day 16: Hidden Talents - A Secret Language

by 221b_hound



Series: Techienician: Botanical Love [17]
Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 30 Days of Techienician, Explicit Sexual Content, Hidden Talents, M/M, Nipple Play, Rimming, Techienician
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: Techie has nimble fingers; Matt has sturdy hands. How they use them when they work is not a hidden talent. How they use them on each other, though. That's special.





	Day 16: Hidden Talents - A Secret Language

**Author's Note:**

> For Atlinmerrick, who when I said I didn't know what their hidden talents were, said 'make it porny' and there was my answer.

Techie makes little wire animals and plants with his nimble, sensitive fingers. He used to make them for himself, creating something beautiful within an ugly world when he held by the Crime Clan. They gave him hope, then. After his escape, he made them because crafting creatures from chaos made him happy, because life was better but not easy. The hope in them kept him strong. And then life was both better and a lot easier, when he met Matt of the giant heart. Then he started making them for Matt to say thank you. He has made a dozen little copper decorations for Matt, which he hangs from the sturdy leaves of their kkortree. When their voices make the little tree shiver and grow, the graceful loops and spirals of these wire blossoms jingle. More rarely, he makes them for others, like the wire portrait of Captain Kit he made for the General.

Matt is a slow and methodical worker, but his big hands are sure and steady. Some people assume a man of his size could only ever be clumsy; too thoughtlessly strong to be careful. There’s an assumption that a giant of a man would only break things, not even meaning too. How could he be sensitive and mindful of smaller things, seeing as there is so much of him? But Matt can hold an array plate steady in one hand while balancing three tools in the other and simultaneously twisting in the screws and monitoring the radiation feedback levels. Matt can use those great hands of his to perfectly align motherboards to feedlines; gimbals with rotation cuffs that keep the radar dishes swivelling smoothly. Those hands are large but dextrous. Matt’s happy when he works, because he knows he’s being useful and practical, and that even if the part he plays is small, it’s important to get it right. So sometimes, when he’s in the midst of reassembling a unit or calibrating four different sensors, he’ll sort of sing to himself, a la-la-la of wordless music which sets up the rhythm for his ministrations.

These things are not Techie’s and Matt’s hidden talents, though talents they certainly are. They’re hardly _hidden_.

Yet these men do have secret skills which spring from nimble, sensitive fingers; from sure and steady hands and a dancing tongue.

Techie’s fingers flutter across Matt’s skin. Matt didn’t know he had sensitive nipples until Techie’s fingers taught him so. Those fine, slender, delicate pads brush across Matt’s chest, darting-quick and whisper-slow in turn; spit-slicked they rub concentric circles onto skin that tightens and pebbles and peaks to seek more of that sweet sensation; fast-and-slow, those fingers tweak and roll and tease first one peak and then the other and then both, building sensation upon maddening, brilliant sensation until Matt is writhing and arching beneath Techie’s clever hands.

Matt’s untouched cock has grown rock hard with Techie’s cunning fingers upon just his nipples, and come almost as soon as Techie’s hand wraps around his girth to squeeze and pull just that wonderfully perfect right _oh yes!_ enough.

Imagine then the wonder of Techie’s nimble, clever fingers on Matt’s spine, on his big ears that are ludicrously ( _no_ , whispers Techie, _perfectly, beautifully_ ) sensitive. Imagine them on the arches of Matt’s feet and smoothing upwards along Matt’s inner thighs. Imagine them behind Matt’s knees, on his hips, on his ass.

Imagine Techie’s beautiful, delicate fingers slipping sweetly, slick with lube, between the cheeks of Matt’s backside, over the tight wrinkle of his hole and with slow care – even when all Matt wants and all Techie wants is for Techie to be on him, _in_ him, sliding his cock deep inside – even then, Techie’s hands are only ever perfect. His fingers – one, two, three, sometimes four – find that little place, that perfect spot, that makes Matt’s back arch and makes him spread his legs wide and hump against Techie’s fingers in him and makes him moan.

For he has a hidden talent, does Techie. Where Techie’s clever fingers go, Techie’s passionate kisses follow, and Matt’s body tingles and feels alive. Techie’s fingerprints on every part of him outside, inside, are a kind of language – and they speak Matt Hugon at the molecular level.

Matt speaks Techie’s language too, because his big hands that people think cannot be delicate, cannot be gentle, are the ones that cup Techie’s face and are oh-so-careful of Techie’s sore eyes. They are the hands that run down Techie’s back and stretch across Techie’s narrow waist, fingertips almost meeting, and lift Techie (while Techie winds his legs around Matt’s much thicker waist) to waltz him in circles around their little room, while Matt kisses his darling boy. Matt’s hands squeeze Techie’s luscious little backside with playfulness, and with more robust enthusiasm, but never too hard, because Matt loves the feeling of Techie’s ass fitting perfectly in his palms.

Matt’s sure and steady hands caress Techie’s legs and belly. One big hand will hold the back of Techie’s head, all soft and supportive, as they kiss, while the other slides low between Techie’s legs and presses insistent-gentle till Techie’s cock swells hot and hard against Matt’s curving palm, Matt’s fingers underneath Techie’s balls, the fingertips rubbing against that patch of skin behind, making Techie keen pleasure at how Matt holds so much of him at once.

And let us not forget Matt’s tongue, which is like all of him broad and long. Imagine it darting out from Matt’s worshiping mouth, dotting Techie’s body with dabs of tongue-tip tasting, striping it with long licks, swirling on nipple and navel and elbow and knee with the soft-sucking kisses.

Imagine Techie belly down, bum up, with Matt’s big hands spreading his pert ass wide, and Matt’s big tongue squirming in, poking and wriggling, a lavish tongue-fucking. Imagine Matt humming happy notes while Techie pants and pushes against that generous mouth, Matt licking in and _in_ and over and _in_ , holding Techie gently and firmly wide, until Techie pleads, _Oh Matt, Matt, Mattie, I gotta come, I wanna, please…_

And imagine Matt with all his careless strength lifting Techie’s hips, ducking down and turning so he can suck his darling deep and with tongue and mouth and humming, bring Techie to bucking orgasm.

The body-singing pleasure of nimble fingers, sturdy hands, dancing tongues: those talents are hidden from everyone else, but never from each other.


End file.
